KNOW YOUR NME (Or why do the so-called music press never learn?)

By Lawrence Piddock

I’ve been away for a little while. I’ve not been idle, but plans have gone awry. My idea for a CSS tribute band involving kazoos, bassoons and a ukulele didn’t quite work out. Neither did my quick fire game show featuring twelve hosts and a couple of schizophrenic contestants called Who Said That? Which has bizarrely not been picked up by any of the TV stations I pitched it to, not even Bravo or Nuts TV...

Also it doesn’t help when you send pieces to somebody and they don’t read them (a little clue, his first name’s Kevin...*).

Anyway, last time I wrote I was having a pop at festivals and this leads on a tad conveniently. A piece in the pre-Glastonbury NME excelled itself when it declared that if people were willing to protest against U2 for dodging taxes in Eire, then why aren’t people were willing to protest against Beyonce taking a princely sum for performing a private gig for the Gadaffi family a couple of years back.I’d like to make it clear that I had very little time for the not-so-dearly-departed Gadaffi and his ilk, but there was more chance of the Daleks turning up on the Pyramid Stage during Coldplay’s set and exterminating Chris Martin than any anti-Beyonce protest ever happening.

And the NME know it...

FESTIVAL SEASON (Oh the horror!) by Laurence Piddock

Be afraid people, be very afraid! Especially if you’re a music fan, even more so if you’re a music fan of a nervous disposition. It’s pretty likely that if you haven’t already heard it, you’ll soon be hearing the following phrase...

“Going to any festivals this year?”

It would be both prudent and wise for me to say that going to a festival is probably one of those things you should do at least a couple of times. You’ll encounter all sorts of conditions; meet assorted numpties and decent folk of various creeds and tackle a multitude of obstacles which, as my Dad would put it “build character”. However, if you don’t want to end up like me, spending your impending old age blogging like a less wishy-washy Jon Gaunt whilst polishing your Zimmer frame, take heed and listen.

YOUR LOCAL MUSIC VENUE NEEDS YOU - By Lawrence Piddock

Saturdays... to some they're a bunch of ladies who gamely cover Depeche Mode numbers for charity
(I'll stick my head over the parapet here and admit that I admire their pluck - I look forward to them
tackling "Blasphemous Rumours" or "Flies on the Windscreen"* at some point). It's also the day
when the nation's Dads drag their kids around Homebase and B&Q. It's also the day when many
nervous football managers are preparing for the worst and consider updating their CV.

In my case it's normally means sacrificing my lie-in in order to get to the washing machine before
everyone else, and while I wait a while for the washing to be done, it means listening to the wireless
for a bit.

Funnily enough, they were discussing small venues. A lot of people texted and tweeted about seeing
bands before they were famous in small clubs, pubs etc before they were famous. There was the
inevitable stories about someone's band supporting The Jam or The Police or The Smiths and the
bovine excrement especially the guy who claimed to have seen Oasis play in Portsmouth in 1992 (For
the record Pete in Southsea, if you're reading this, Noel was still a roadie for Inspiral Carpets at that
point! And they didn't play south of the M6 till 1994)

Anyhow, it got on to a discussion of the problems facing small venues at the moment. A lot of
familiar stories about places struggling to keep going. Being involved with the Rising Sun it's
something I know pretty well.

Rage Against The X Factor Protests by Lawrence Piddock

January can be a very depressing month. Especially if like I, you're faced with the prospect of going to work in the dark and going home in the dark. But it's not all bad. Sure the weather's just as cold and there's the prospect of being snowed in just when you need to get somewhere, but there's always that sense of something new which is particularly handy if the previous year's been a bit rough. Another welcome aspect is that Simon Cowell is off the telly for a while, and that little spark of gold comes with an unexpected bonus.

What's that? I hear you cry! Well, it means that you can go onto Facebook for the next few months and not have to be pestered by some campaign to get some poxy record to Number One for Xmas as an X-Factor protest. (More after the jump)